


Before

by Auraspirit157



Series: Watch_Dogs As I See It [5]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Game)
Genre: All before game, Gen, the title is obvious enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auraspirit157/pseuds/Auraspirit157
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots dedicated to the times before the games events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sick As Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series of one-shots dedicated to the times before Aiden was a brooding asshole :)  
> In all seriousness, I have a lot of little ideas for Watch Dogs but don’t want to make a million separate stories. So, my sister and I decided to make a series. As mentioned before, all of the one-shots within take place before the events of the game. I’ll have a little summary in italics of each one before it begins. This one is simply a quote. Ready, Go.
> 
> “Remember when you and mom were sick as dogs but Dad insisted his boy was going to have his birthday cake? That thing was an abomination- all burnt and lopsided. That was dad in a nutshell. He did a lot of ugly things but it was always about family.” – Nicole Pearce

Nicole Pearce didn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned by her brother’s condition.

Aiden lay curled up on the couch, wrapped within the confines of a bright orange blanket. He shakes from chill yet is in a contrasting sweat. His paleness is only rivaled by their mother’s, who was in a similar condition in her bedroom. Nicole sits on the footstool beside him. Seeing her brother in such a weak state is simply uncanny.

The 12-year-old blonde watches him glare at the wall with intense, green eyes, “You look really mean when you’re sick. What did the wall do to you?” she asks, prompting Aiden to shift his gaze to her, though it softens on impact.

His voice is willowy from sickness, but a gruffness is still present as he speaks, “I hate this.”

“Look on the bright side, at least you don’t have to do any chores.” She crosses her arms, pouting, “I had to do all of yours.”

 She accomplishes her mental goal of making him smile, even if it's only slight. He sits up, despite his sister's look of discouragement to do so, "I _hope_ I wouldn't have had to anyway. It's my birthday. Like hell I'm going to clean."  
  
Nicole giggles a little, then takes on her best commanding voice, "You should lay down. I mean, you're really sick."  
  
"I'm fine Nicky, you shouldn't be around me anyway. You might get sick too."  
  
"Oh come on Aiden! Let _me_ look out for _you_ for once."  
  
"You can improve your chances of that by not getting sick."  
  
Nicole groans, "You make me crazy! You're just like dad!" she sighs, "Fine, I'll go. But only if you _promise_ to try and sleep for a little bit."  
  
Aiden smiles a rather unbelievable smile, "I promise-"  
  
"Nope!" the younger sister interrupts him, going to her knees and shuffling to his side, sticking out her pinky finger, "Pinky swear."  
  
He frowns, hesitating, as if the pinky swear would seal his promise, enlisting death if he breaks it. Nicole smiles, knowing in her own head, that he _had_ to listen if he swore. She sticks out her lower lip upon his hesitation, making the biggest puppy dog eyes she can.  
  
He glances up briefly, rolling his green eyes and groaning a horse groan, "Fine," he submits, sneezing as he wraps his own picky around hers, "I pinky swear."  
  
Nicole jumps up as soon as he finishes, running out. She skids to a stop when she's out the door, running back, "I better hear snoring!" she calls before padding back down the hall.  
  
"I don't snore!" Aiden calls through the door to the best of his ability.  
  
The little sister goes to the kitchen, stopping in her tracks. The hall that lead to the front door was occupied by a large man. Nicole's face brightens in sudden, joyful realization as she runs and embraces her father.

It's barely a second before the man returns the hug, laughing quietly and lifting the girl off her feet, "How's my favorite daughter?"  
  
"Where have you _been_ dad?" Nicole yells, half happy and half annoyed with her father, "It's been, like, forever-"  
  
He shushes her, placing a finger over his lips. His hands were rough and scarred, as if he participated in many fights. His deep, green eyes were heavy with fatigue, his voice speaking softly with Irish origin, "I would never miss my son's birthday. Where's Aiden?"  
  
"He's sick. He caught Mom’s cold." the daughter answers with a lowered voice, then smiles, "But Aiden will be super excited to see you!"  
  
But her father seemed transfixed on the previous statement, his brow furrowing, and “Sick? On his birthday?" he pauses, "No celebration at all?"  
  
"No...I mean, I can't leave. Mom's been sick and Aiden..."  
  
"Please! The boy at least needs a birthday cake!"  
  
"Oh...uh...dad you're not going to make a cake, are you?"  
  
"Why the hell not?" He stands, going to the kitchen, "it can't be that hard..."  
  
"Dad, I've never seen you cook. Like...ever."  
  
"Doesn't mean I can't. That little shit is getting a birthday cake whether he likes it or not." the father finalizes his opinion, pulling out random ingredients.  
  
She observes as he bumbles, knowing that he had no idea what he was doing. Thinking about Aiden, she jogs back to the living room, glancing inside.  
  
Her brother was again curled up on the couch, stuffed in the corner of the sofa. Soft breathes escape him, though he occasionally coughs between deep intakes. Only the top of his head, messy with brown hair, was visible beneath the orange blankets. The boy looked like a sleeping fox in its den. She smiles, glad that he actually took her seriously. Silently she slips through the room, snatching a cookbook from the shelf beyond and hurrying out.  
  
When she returns to the kitchen, her father had already made a mess of it. Yet now, her mother stood watching him, a robe wrapped around her body. Her condition seemed improved, her blonde hair thrown in a messy bun and eyes more alert then before. Nicole hides behind the doorway, watching as she starts speaking.  
  
"You've been gone for more than a week and you decide to come back _now_?" her mother says in her own Irish tongue, crossing her arms.  
  
Her father turns to her, flour caked on his hands, "Look, I know, I didn't think it would take as long as it did. But I came back, and a day early too-"  
  
"What were you doing?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, what were you doing?"  
  
The man takes on a dejected expression, hesitating to answer, and “I don’t want you-"  
  
"I'm already angry, Kane." her mother sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Please don't tell me it's about that call."  
  
"...I told you I'd find out."  
  
"God Kane! I told you not to go after them! Do you realize how stupid you can be?"  
  
"You think I was going to let some bastard talk to you that way? I'm not going to let anyone threaten you or my family!"  
  
"You're putting us in more danger by starting fights with these people! What if he was part of a gang? They'll come after you!"  
  
"Oh trust me, love, he'll stay away."  
  
There's a silence that follows, one that Nicole didn't dare interrupt. Despite not knowing what they were talking about, she's heard similar arguments between her parents. She shifts slightly, surprised when her father turns to the doorway at the slightest noise.  
  
Kane looks at his daughter with a soft gaze, seeing the cookbook in her hands, "What do you got there?"  
  
"Um...a cookbook. So you can make a cake instead of a mess" Nicole answers, trying to utilize a light tone but unable to keep her voice from shaking slightly.  
  
She knew that her father was aware that she had heard the conversation. He looks at his wife, who gives him a disapproving look, "Let him rest Kane, he's sick."  
  
"It's his _birthday,_ love, he should at least get a cake."  
  
"I'll make him one when he's better, but that's not-" she looks a Nicole, sighing, "We're not done talking about this." she submits, leaving the room with a sneeze.  
  
Kane looks back at his daughter, "Alright, how much did you hear?"  
  
"Um…all of it. What call was she talking about?"  
  
"You know, it doesn't matter now. You don't have to worry about it, love." he kneels down so he’s eye level with her, "Mom doesn't realize what I'm trying to do. Just let me handle it."  
  
A mischievous smile plays on the young girl's face, "If you're going to handle it the same way you make cake, I believe her."  
  
"So that's how it is." he takes the book from her, messing up her hair, "I'll _prove_ it to you."

He turns away, busying himself with different ingredients. Nicole sits on a chair by the counter, watching him for a while as he curses his way through a recipe. By the time he finishes the batter and pours it into pans, the kitchen looks as though a tornado ran through it. He slides the pans in the oven, kicking it closed, “Beautiful.”

Nicole scrunches her nose, “Dad, no offense, but-“

“But nothing! It’ll be beautiful.” Kane says triumphantly despite the mess, “For me, at least. Baking is fucking hard.”

She giggles a little, interrupted by shuffling feet and a sickly voice, “Holy shit, what happened in here?”

Kane and Nicole look up, the doorway to the hall occupied by Aiden. He stood in his sweatpants and old tee-shirt, the blanket he was sleeping with wrapped around his shoulders. He looks at his father, eyes widening a little, “Dad?” he pauses, then smirks, “Well, that explains a lot.”

The father smiles at the sight of his son, then raises an eyebrow at his tone, “Oh, shut it kid. I was baking.”

Aiden takes on a similar expression to Kane’s, “Baking what? Bombs?”

“A cake, smartass. And you better eat it when it’s done.” He looks at him, then punches his shoulder, “Happy Birthday, by the way.”

Her brother rubs his shoulder, though doesn’t give much else in terms of a reaction. He looks back at his father, “Thanks but…you’ve been gone a while.”

“Oh, were you worried about me?” Kane frowns a bit, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was taking care of something-“

“Dad, its fine. You don’t have to explain it. I know it’s about that phone call mom got a few weeks ago.” Aiden interrupts him, then glances at Nicole. He lowers his voice, too quiet for her to hear. Their father nods, grinning a bit, as if impressed by something, then laughs heartily. He wraps an arm around his son’s shoulders, walking and speaking to him about something the younger sibling didn’t understand.

It was then that she realized that they had drifted off into their own world. It amazed her sometimes how alike Aiden and her father really were. They both were secretive men, with hairpin triggers for anger and fierce protectiveness. But the things Nicole saw couldn’t be articulated by her well, only thought about.

She felt a strong need to eavesdrop, to follow and attempt to understand. Yet, she knew it wasn’t her place. She thinks about going to her mother, too. Asking her about what happened may distract her. But that didn’t seem like something to harp on. Ultimately, she keeps to herself, wandering to her room and back, occasionally spying on her father and brother, who were immersed in some animated conversation. Her father’s rapid gesticulation tells her whatever story he’s telling is one that probably involved a fight. Aiden watches and listens, sometimes smiling and sometimes asking a question she couldn’t hear. Whatever his expression, he was clearly paying close attention, like he was learning something important.

Nicole leans away from the small crack in the door, sighing a bit. It seemed she should be able to join them, but they might have well have been on another planet. Speaking an alien language.

A burning smell drifts into her thoughts, then her consciousness. She stands straight, following the smell to the kitchen. The oven beeped loudly right when she stepped inside, the source of the scent coming from its threshold.

Behind her, Kane enters, taking what was supposed to be a cake out of the oven. He mutters to himself, his rambles somewhere between amused pity and angry disappointment as her practically wrestles the things out of their pans and stacks them on top of one another. Aiden comes up beside Nicole as she moves to the counter. The three looked down at the creation like it was some undiscovered alien creature.

Nicole blinks, then looks at her father, “Dad,” she says, pointing at it, “that looks like shit.”

Aiden breaks into a grin before nearly falling over in laughter. Her father doesn’t react, keeping a straight face as he continues to stare at the burnt, lopsided abomination he created. He abruptly drops his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I know, love.” He says, looking at Aiden, “You’re still going to eat it though. I worked hard on it.”

Her brother slows his laughter, “Are you kidding? You want me to die on my birthday too?”

“It just needs some love. You know, frosting and shit.” He looks down at Nicole, seeming to be mentally deciding whether to ask her a question.”

The daughter rolls her eyes in an exaggerated way, going to the fridge and taking out a small pint of frosting, “I’ll help you, dad.”

She jumps on the flour-covered counter, taking the liberty to begin frosting the poor concoction. Kane soon joins her, her brother leans forward and watching them. By the time they’re through, the cake looks slightly less atrocious, two containers worth of sprinkles thrown on top to cover and outstanding burnt parts.

Another silence follows as they reexamine the cake. Aiden shrugs, picking up a fork and sticking it right in, daring to taste whatever was there.

Kane glances up at him, trying not to seem eager for his opinion, “Well?”

Her brother swallows with a resounding expression of meek indifference, “It’s pretty bad…but it’s not disgusting.”

Their father breaks out into a grin, “Yes! Victory!” he throws his hands in the air, smacking a mixing bowl off the counter in the process. He pulls Nicole close buy the shoulders, looking down at her, “See? I didn’t kill him. That is a win for me.”

She laughs, wiggling out of his grasp and giving him a hug around the waist, “Good job Dad.”

His grin lowers into a sincere smile, petting back her hair and speaking more softly, “Thanks love, that means a lot to an old fighter like me.”

She pulls away, looking up at her father. She might never understand how his brain worked. He did a lot of ugly things, a lot of near terrible things.

But it was always about family. 


	2. How it All Began

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was curious as to how Damian and Aiden ended up meeting, so I wrote this in honor of that.

It wasn't till around two in the morning when Damien decided that he couldn’t sleep. He blamed it on the constant barrage of Chicago traffic, although it could have been all that coffee he had consumed just a couple hours ago. The latter being far more likely.

He rolled out of bed, grumbling at the effort. He hated being so jittery, especially when the amount of hours he had gotten of sleep had been pitiful at best. Then again, this was his favorite time to snoop about his apartment building. There were some rather unique individuals that lived there and he got bored easily.

He could initially tell just from the plethora of noises he heard. His walls was relatively quiet despite the thinness but the floors and ceilings were a different story. The couple that lived above him always believed they should get better acquainted in the wee hours of the morning. And some of other individuals below him made up just as much as they severed their ties. He couldn't count how many times Chris broke up with Katie or in some cases the other way around. There was a woman a couple doors down that constantly asked him for random cooking ingredients despite the numerous times he explained that he lived on the diet of a college student; that being TV dinners and packed ready-to-cook noodles, possibly wine if he was feeling particularly classy. 

However, even with these events he found his apartment to be particularly quiet, save the humming of hard drives and the occasional sparky light from his computer monitors.

The hacker sits in a wheeled office chair, looking idly at one of his many laptops. He muttered blankly to himself, “No death threats? Dammit,” He rolled across the room to another set of screens, “Those are my favorite.”

Typing quickly, he hacked into the security cameras. His apartment was rigged to all Hell, but no one would notice that. He skipped the footage of the couple above him, knowing full and well how uncomfortable he would get from even seeing half a frame. He continuously switched through each camera set, most residents still being asleep. Briefly he saw one room getting robbed. Not his problem.

His monotonous invasion of privacy was interrupted by a screeching grid of the computer next to him, followed by a contrastingly musical four dings.

“I fucking hate that sound,” Damien groaned, “Who is it this time?” He turned toward the third computer. The “hacker” career was becoming increasingly popular due to the sudden burst of new technology. That made his job a bit more tedious at points with all the hilarious attempts at thievery. Most gave up after his second firewall; he had a lot of firewalls.

He watched the warning meter crawl slowly upward in percentage in a rather bored state, leaning back as it moves above a quarter.

“You can do it,” Damien mumbled, his hands still jittering from the caffeine, “I believe in you. You can get about fifty percent.” That was the last thing he believed, but being sarcastic to himself made him more immune to the sarcasm of others.

He supposed he should just track the invader, however, he always waited to see how far they got. Most usually faded away close to fifty percent anyway, stuck in the endless array of glitches and interludes.

Although, this person seemed different.

The hacker watched his screen for a good half an hour. Whoever the person was, despite the ridiculous periods of dead progress, seemed determined to get through. This was an immediate red flag. It usually meant the person was an actual hacker and not some kid trying to be funny.

He watched the meter pass fifty percent, sighing and speaking quietly, “Fine. You’ve got my attention.” He typed in a few commands, tracking the invader rather quickly within a parking garage just down the block.

Parking garages. He hated them, especially when trying to find someone. He sighs, jamming the signal as he stands. The very idea of going outside filled him with agitation, but going out in the _cold_ gave him more of a reasoning to bring his shotgun instead of a pistol. He pulls the weapon from behind the refrigerator as he passed through the kitchen. Inspectors never checked there.

“This better be good…” Damien grumbled, plucking a coat from the floor as he goes out into the hall. Maybe the invader would bleed money by some unnatural phenomenon. He could care less at that point, it was freezing and far too early in the morning. He left the apartment, ignoring the unfriendly greeting from the winter wind.

The parking garage was smaller than most, thankfully. He slips up the stairs, hiding the gun in his jacket. There was not point on scaring whoever it was, if he could be scared. Damien wasn’t banking on being intimidating in presence, he wasn’t in any state of physical or mental activeness. There was a part of him that wanted that sort of persona, it could get him into far more intriguing networks.

When he reached the roof of the structure he didn’t exactly expect to find his hacker straight ahead of him.

It was certainly a sight to see: a figure curled at the corner of the platform, surrounded by technology. Two laptops, a couple routers, and what looked like a space heater that wasn’t even on. The figure was definitely young, a Chicago Bulls cap shadowing his eyes as he stared down at the screen. His second computer was flashing through some coding that Damien couldn’t read from his distance, but it was almost as if the kid was completely ignoring that one. That, and the ridiculous temperature, the hacker was surprised the kid’s network was even functioning, hell, that the man himself was functioning. He sat there like it wasn’t the middle of the winter, captivated in what he was doing.

Damien walked closer, taking advantage of the stranger’s obliviousness. He stopped a couple of strides from him. The kid’s face was covered in a thin, winter scarf. It was either a poor attempt to hide his identity or an even poorer attempt of keeping the cold away. Most likely both.

The older man put his hands in his pockets, leaning over to look at the unobserved laptop. There was a bar frozen around sixty percent. He looked back at the kid, still typing away.

Damien sighed, “You know. I find it funny how some people get so…absorbed in their work that they don’t bother noticing what is around them.”

The stranger stopped his typing, not even turning his head before slamming the computer closed, swiping everything into a bag faster than Damien through humanly possible. He barely got the bag over his shoulder before swinging off the ledge straight behind him.

Damien ran to the edge, seeing the kid clung to the side of a lift. He jumps off, rolling stylishly over a dumpster and onto the snowy sidewalk, bolting down the street right when his feet graze the pavement.

The hacker scoffed, jumping onto the lift, “You’re going to be _that_ kind of runner then. Fucking brilliant.”

He gave chase despite getting down from the garage in a much less showy manner. The kid ran fast for carrying several expensive computers on him. He saw him ahead jumping over a fence and into an alley. Damien stopped in his tracks, turning back and down the other block, hoping to cut him off.

He was halfway down the alley when he sees the kid cross ahead before being viciously knocked back by some force, rolling back in the snow. Three shadows bolt from the passage, beginning to back him into a corner.

“That was unexpected,” Damien mumbled, walking slow and deliberate before crouching behind a pile of wood platforms. The kid must have had some enemies if he was ambushed like that. His eyes darted near him as the kid’s bag was tossed in the snow near his hiding spot.

“Don’t let the fucker run,” One man spoke, his feet crunching on the icy asphalt.

“He’s not running,” another said, sounding very amused.

Damien slowly peeked over his spot. The kid was surrounded, the worn scarf ripped away from him. He watched each man with a stone-cold stare, unintimidated. The older man reached over, snatching the bag up and pulling it over.

“You think we wouldn’t have found you?” he heard the first man speak as Damien inspected the first laptop. There was only silence in response to the question, in which he smirked at. The strong, silent type then. Or, at least trying to be.

He looked back at the event, seeing that the first man had shoved the kid against the wall. He stood close, in his space. It was a common tactic, but Damien chuckles quietly.

“You’re not taking any of this shit…are you?” He whispered as he observed the kid’s continuous silence.

“What’s the matter with you? Suddenly can’t talk?” The first man pulls out a pistol, the point touching the kid’s forehead, “Wanna talk now? Tell me not to kill you.”

Damien watched, his curiosity growing uncontrollable. He got what he came for, he had the kid’s bag; he could just walk away. Then again, the kid was an interesting beast, the way he stared down a gun in his face like it was a minor inconvenience in his day. He needed a beast like that.

He heard a curse, looking back over the first man was wiping away something on his face. It took only a second to realize that the kid probably spat at him. The second man grabs the kid’s arms before what seemed like his attempt to run. However, it looked more like the kid was going to punch him. The first man turns, swiftly slamming his fist into the kid’s stomach.

Damien looked back at the exit, sighing and speaking to himself, “The things I do for my damn curiosity.” He opens one of the kid’s laptops, beginning to whistle quietly as he hacks through the area. He plunged the area into darkness faster than his usual time.

“What the fuck-” He heard one of them shout before being harshly cut off.

Damian stood as the lights returned to life. He turned, seeing the kid slamming a thug in the head with a baton. He dodges the second throwing a punch, grabbing his arm and slamming the baton into it. The man barely lets out a scream when he’s appropriately silenced as well. The final stood, staring at the display. The kid picked up one of the fallen pistols, pointing it back at the enemy. There was a cold, emotionless smile on his face, “Tell me not to kill you.”

The man’s eyes went wide, taking no time to book it back down the alley. Damien waits for the kid to toss the gun off before stepping out, “That was a nice show you put on there.”

The kid turned to him, keeping the same expression, “That’s my laptop.”

Damien’s eyes wandered back to the computer he was still holding, “Yeah, it is. Your point being?”

Confused by the tactics, he stepped forward, “Give it back…and my bag.” His voice was low and gravelly, the kind of voice you expect to hear off a scarred face like his. There was something burning at the back of his blank expression that Damien couldn’t quite describe. Or really cared about.

The older man slammed the computer closed, “You know I just saved your ass there.”

“What are you…?” He trailed off, looking at the lights and back at him, “That was you?”

Damien smirked, “What’s your name, kid?”

“What’s yours?” He asked back defensively.

“Damien.” He was pretty sure the stranger was surprised he actually said his name. It was the first amount of expression he had seen from him. Damien continued while stepping back to retrieve his bag, “You were stealing my shit a little bit ago. You got pretty far. Ever tried using that for something more useful?”

The kid was silent in response.

Damien rolled his eyes, stuffing the laptop in the bag, “You have some skill, kid. I can teach you what you’re lacking, if you help me in return.”

Again, there is silence.

Perhaps this was a lost cause. Damien tossed the bag at his feet, speaking with a shrug, “Or you could leave. Just a suggestion, considering those jackasses would have crippled you without my help.” He turned away, slipping his hands back in his pockets, forgetting for a moment how cold it was.

He was halfway down the alley when he heard rapidly crunching snow skitter to a stop beside him. He looked over, the stranger now matching his stride, his hat shadowing his eyes, his scarf picked up and wrapped back around him.

“It’s Aiden,” He spoke without looking at the man, “And don’t make me shoot you in the head.”

Damien smirked again, “I can’t make any promises there, kid.”

**_[Hack]_4820_Location Unknown_{Pearce}_Where-The-Good-Times-Have-Gone_ **

Nicole Pearce shifts in her chair, her eyes trained on the concrete floor. She tries not to concentrate on the worst of what the man in front of her just spoke of. It is hard, considering that everything sounded like the worst. Aiden. Her big brother. She wishes that it wasn’t true that he was involved in so much without her knowing. But, the horrible feeling of knowing how wrong she was stabbed through any sliver of ignorant hope.

Nicole looks up at her captor, his name was Damien. Aiden had told her the last time they spoke to stay away from him. She thought it to be good advice, the man rarely looked at her when he came into the room, as if her being there was a means to an end. Yet, this time he had lingered, deciding her to grace her with the story of how he and her brother met.

“That’s about it. Pretty humble beginning if I would say so myself.”

Most of the time she didn’t reply when he spoke; she didn’t want anything to do with him. This was only until he began telling her how it all started between him and Aiden. She couldn’t help but show she was listening. Now that the story was done, she found Damien more confusing than ever. He is no doubt a horrible, selfish human being.

But what did that make Aiden?

Damien watches her, laughing slightly with a shake of his head, “I’m starting to think you aren’t his sister.”

The sister stares back, clearing her throat, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve never seen two people so different that are still related. It’s almost hilarious, actually,” He leans back in his chair, “I’m starting to think he really is an alien.”

“Then are you one as well?” Nicole asks, quickly defending her brother, although not as strongly as she would have liked.

Damien looks away, almost as if trying to grasp something that wasn’t there, “Maybe. Then again. I am curious about something,” He looks back at her, “Who is the bad guy again?”

_You._

That is what she wants to say, the word was formed immediately in her mind but she couldn’t get herself to speak.

 “There’s a lot he hasn’t told me,” Nicole decides to say, despite not completely answering the question, “But he’s still my brother. I trust him. But you…you’re different.”

“How? Because of this?” He gestures to the area around them, “This only happened because Pearce shut me out. _This_ could have been avoided. But your brother…” he laughs a little, “He can’t be controlled by anyone. He doesn’t listen to anyone and never will.”

“That’s not true,” Nicole’s voice is surprisingly defensive.

“You’re too understanding for your own good,” Damien says with narrowed eyes, “Everything is my fault, right? I fucked up the job, I probably killed your daughter too.”

His mention of Lena suddenly infuriates her to no end, “Don’t bring her into this.” She snaps, surprising herself with the amount of venom in her voice, “That was an accident-“

“Oh, no it was _not.”_ He chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose, “He hasn’t told you shit, has he? Well, I guess I would expect as much. He wants to protect you, no matter what.”

Nicole watches him with concerned curiosity, then annoyance, “What does she have to do with anything?”

He stops laughing, looking at her steadily. The crippled man lacked the look and demeanor of a criminal mastermind. At least, any one that Nicole had seen. He sighs heavily, “It’s the reason he has done any of this. His niece; your daughter, died because someone put a hit on him, on us.” He looks at his hands, cracking the knuckles, “Do you really think that Aiden, of all people, would just ‘lose control’ of a car?”

She thinks about this, looking at the floor. It didn’t make that much sense, did it? Then again, he could be lying, trying to get her sympathy in the situation. She looks back at him with crossed arms, “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense, and I don’t like the fact that Aiden is still caught up with it. But you know what?” she pauses, some part of her not wanting to defend her older brother, “He did a lot of bad things but it’s _always_ about family. I don’t like it, but I’ll follow him if he thinks what he’s doing is right.”

Damian’s expression darkens, “Oh yeah? You think he’s been doing the right thing this whole time?”

“I do.” Nicole maintains her stubborn confidence in her brother’s actions, “I don’t know much about you, but he must have blown you off for good reason.”

“ _I suffered too!”_ the sudden rise in Damian’s voice makes Nicole jump. He stands, slightly unstable on his crippled leg, “You think I didn’t feel bad afterward the Merlaut? You think that after I heard about Lena’s death that I didn’t care? I did! I fucking felt for him! But you know what? I suffered too! We _both fucked up!_ That’s why your daughter’s dead, and I can never use my leg again, because Pearce didn’t stand by me!”

He calms down almost as so as he became angry, though he clenched his fists. He felt betrayed, Nicole could see that. She watches him for a second before speaking words she didn’t think she’d say, “I’m sorry. I don’t know…I don’t really know what happened, exactly.” Her eyes narrow, “But Aiden suffered at the same time you did, right? He’s never been the best as showing emotion. I mean, how is he supposed to know that you feel bad?” She couldn’t imagine why she was trying to get all psychological with the man, but it was the only thing she could think to do.

“You think I didn’t try? I’m preaching to the choir though.” He turns away, suddenly chuckling again, “You shouldn’t follow him anywhere, really. You’ll end up where you don’t belong.”

She watches him leave without another word, he head trying to decide whose side she was on at this point. Even more confused than she was before, she pulls her legs up and hugs her knees, wondering just how much her big brother had kept from her.

And how much she was willing to forgive him for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I sort of cheated at the end of the chapter but HEY! I never said I couldn't break my own rules! Most of the story was before the events of the game!  
> Anyway, please comment and if you have any suggestions for one-shots feel free!


	3. Stormbound Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Staying - Koda

The storm his around midnight. Thunder rolled like an avalanche in the distance and rain struck the ground like bullets. Lightning occasionally illuminated the room with its millisecond glow. Aiden’s eyes dart to the window upon every flash, unable to keep his attention from being captured.

 

It was times like these when the man seemed the most awake. Perhaps it was the raging weather. Yet, he could never sleep well in even the most peaceful of settings. Some unbridled restlessness seized his senses upon nightfall. _You can’t sleep_ it would say _there could be danger._

There wasn’t any danger though. Even if there was, he was a light sleeper, if one at all. Now he occupied his mind with the apps on his smartphone, half dozing and half attentive from what he sees.

 

He was at around level 98 of some mindless candy crushing fame when he heard small, pattering footsteps. They didn’t beat as fast as the rain, but instead took small, cautious movements toward him. The man made those assumptions before he directed his attention to the owner.

 

Lena’s approach is halted as soon as she locked eyes with him. She hugged a small lamb doll, blonde hair sticking out in places. Her eyes shot to the ground, lip quivering, wanting to speak but too embarrassed to do so.

 

Aiden attempted to keep his voice down in the silent house, “Hey, what are you doing up? It’s pretty late.”

 

“I…” She began, hugging her toy tighter before continuing, “I’m scared. The storm woke me up.”

 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just rain, it won’t hurt you.” He replies quietly, bluntly. He wasn’t the best at comforting a frightened heart.

 

She was about to respond when thunder crashed from the heavens. A small squeak escaped as she closes the distance between them and jumped on the couch, giving next to no regard for the little space not occupied by the man.

 

He grunted at the girl’s impact, dropping his phone. Lena settled into a ball beside him, eyes trained at the window. Aiden’s waited to recollect himself before shifting gently. He sat up, pulling his niece close, “It’s alright. It’s just thunder.”

 

“But…but its scary…” the small girl whispered, pulling the blanket he had been using close to her face, “Is…is it mad?”

 

“Is what mad?”

 

“The sky! Is the sky mad at us?”

 

“The sky can’t _get_ mad—“

 

“Yes it can!”

 

“I don’t think it can.”

 

“That’s not what Marcus said!”

 

“Who?”

 

The girl wiggled so she was looking at him now, green eyes completely serious, “This boy from the middle school! He said that when the sky gets mad, it makes it storm! He said I made it mad so it was going to storm and it did!”

 

“Oh yeah?” Aiden wondered what kid would lie like that, “Are you going to believe him or me when I say that the sky isn’t mad at you?”

 

She looked at him for a moment, her face brightening instantly when she smiles, “I believe you!”

 

“Good. Because I’m always right.” Aiden responded with a bit of a smirk.

 

“Lena giggled as he reached down, picking up his phone from the floor. She looked at the LED screen with a curious gaze, tapping it experimentally, “Whatcha going uncle Aiden?”

 

“Eh, just playing a game.” He didn’t want to tell her he had been playing the god-forsaken thing for two hours. It wasn’t as much that it was fun as it was that he wanted to beat Damien’s score. Either his mentor had too much time on his hands or he was really good. One or the other, it was frustratingly difficult to defeat him.

 

Lena watched him play for several minutes, quiet. Thunder rumbled and she jumped, a small cry escaping her. Aiden glanced down at her, “You’re still afraid.”

 

“Y-yeah…” Her voice shook from freight and fatigue.

 

“Just…close your eyes,” He said, “You’ll be alright.”

 

She did as she was told, closing her eyes and snuggling up against him. He wrapped an arm around her, feeling her little heart beat fast against him. He looked out at the rain, rivulets streaming down the windowpanes.

 

“Mom sings to me when I’m scared.” Lena’s voice was tired as she spoke, “Can you sing?”

 

Aiden knew he could, but didn’t like doing it. Nicole was far more interested in that type of thing. However, he felt the girl shake in his arm. She was afraid; she needed comfort.

 

With a sigh, he pulled her close, singing softly the only song he knew, _“As winter takes me now, of cold and clammy skin, a barren empty womb, as I am born again.”_

 

She visually relaxed, pulling the blanket close.

 

_“It’s pulling at my hair, crawling all within,”_ He continued, _“A gentle, beating heart washed away by sin.”_

 

When he paused, he heard and felt a gentle, beating heart. Lena slept calmly in his arms, even when a crack of thunder sounded.

 

He moved slowly, picking her up carefully. Despite not knowing if she could hear him, he continued, _“The monster in your head, won’t surface again. Be still, my child, wash away the sin.”_

 

He carried Lena to get room, returning her to her bed. He pulled the covers over her as he finished, _“And I, as future kings, walk off the edge. Hold me by my name, hold me till the end.”_

 

There was a silence other than the pattering rain. The man steps away quietly, nearly out the door before a small voice breaks the monotony of the rain, “Uncle Aiden?”

 

Aiden turned to her halfway, “Yes?”

 

She paused before speaking again, “I’m not afraid anymore.”

 

He smiles a little, “You’re very brave.”

 

“I want to be like you.”

 

Something hurt Aiden inside, but he couldn’t place the feeling. He bit his lip, skipping a response to her comment, “Goodnight, Lena.”

 

“Night…”

 

The uncle closed his niece’s door softly as he left. Paranoia crawled within him, but he pushed it away. It was that fire again, that need to protect. Calmly, he returns to the couch, thunder rolling as he attempted to relax his restless soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually hate song-fictions. It’s pretty lazy to simply portray a character’s complex thoughts feelings through a song that happens to match it. For this I’ll make an exception, though. Portray the song with Aiden as you will, I have my over-complicated interpretation. Hope you enjoyed it, there is more to come.


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